


Beg

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-01
Updated: 2006-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic





	Beg

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geniusartist](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=geniusartist), [strongplacebo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strongplacebo/gifts).



Shift, squeak, groan.

Dom is writhing on the bed, poetry in motion but more interrupted than that, unplanned and a little vicious. His hips are warm against the cool white of the sheets, and Elijah is enjoying himself, watching.

Perched on a barstool that's been relocated to the corner of the bedroom, he looks like a cat in the shadows. A big cat, waiting to pounce.

Dom tries whinging, staring, thrusting his hips forward in a bloody obvious invitation, but nothing happens.

He tried ignoring it, closing his eyes, going perfectly still, ignoring the twitch that seems to bubble up from some unknown place in his gut, laced with adrenaline, and flow like a supercharged tickle through his veins and into his extremeties, tempting him to shake and writhe and hump the bloody mattress.

That doesn't last long.

Now he's moving again, his lips parted, desperate, eyes wild.

Elijah doesn't budge.

Dom knows what he wants, and this is an exercise in futility, he thinks with a snort. Elijah's never going to have it.

Except...

He bucks up once more, the creak of leather against the headboard so loud he almost wonders if he could break the bed, uproot the headboard and carry it on his back, his shoulders stretched painfully, an odd lustful parody of Christ carrying the cross just so he could get to Elijah, knock him over in a sort of dive with his own weight and the weight of the wood on his back and rub against the sneering little boy until he comes.

A tear rolls down Dom's cheek, and Elijah doesn't move. The bonds hold.

Now he is desperate, so desperate, and he knows what Elijah wants.

Can't do it can't do it can't...

_"Please."_

A hoarse whisper, grating against his throat, raw, and Elijah still does not budge. Raises an eyebrow. His lips form around a word, but no sound comes out. Dom recognises it anyway. _More_.

"Please, Elijah, fuck, bloody... this is so fucking hard, you know it, you know it you beautiful bastard God _damn_ come here and fuck me, fuck me, oh God..."

He's sobbing, and all bets are off, and it hurts, goddamnit, it hurts to capitulate, it hurts to give in, but it's bloody _brilliant_ the way Elijah enters him in a single stroke, bites his lips, chafes his sore wrists with pale lithe fingers and _fucks_ him.

Dom comes on a whinge, and Elijah swallows the sound.


End file.
